


Bury My Love

by AndreaRyan



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1899, 1927, First Kiss, First Love, Gelbus, Grindeldore, M/M, Meeting, Summer 1899, Time Jump, Victorian England
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28029015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaRyan/pseuds/AndreaRyan
Summary: It should had been a warning to young Albus to see just how well Gellert could speak. No one his age was meant to posses such level of eloquence. But then again, after everything Albus ignored that day, it was just another warning sign to omit for the smile and sweet lies of Gellert Grindelwald.- It is the summer of 1899 and Albus Dumbledore had just met Gellert Grindewald. The first part talks about their meeting, second about their first kiss, part three is from 1927 when they meet again- Fic title comes from Moondust by James YoungPlaylist I used when writing this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/28cQQ03dgEiQq1gkdtaA7p?si=rNztybqBQjSInqd5cXBaPA
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

> Grindeldore is a rabbit hole, spread the word. Or at least that's how it felt falling for this ship.

**Part 1**

**Summer 1899**

There was a strange tickle in Albus Dumbledore’s stomach. It would take him years to learn that it was this exact tickle which warned him before something radical was to happen and that he should never ignore it.

That day, that sunny morning when he was on his way to Bathilda’s he did ignore it. One reason was because he was young and did not know better, but mostly because he just enjoyed the company of the witch and her stories which he treasured in his memory.

Later, much later, when he remembered the day, he realized there were more signs than the tickle which suggested that something unusual was to happen.

It was sunny. That on its own was not strange at all. It was the fact that it was the first day of sun after two weeks of rain.

Then there was his waistcoat. A button fell off his favourite purple waistcoat right before he was to leave. He had not time to sew it back on and for some reason he could not remember the right spell either. (He already learnt better than to use _Repairo_ which once resealed every buttonhole on his garment.)

This led to Albus changing into his second favourite waistcoat – crimson silk brocade which hugged his frame a little tighter than a year ago when he had it made. He grew, changed. Even when he did not see it. He did not get taller – at this point he did not think he would – but his chest and shoulders got wider, and he was stronger, too.

And then, perhaps the oddest thing which happened that morning. His mother decided to stay home instead of visiting Bathilda. Ariana was not feeling well, and he knew it was the true reason, but his mother said: ‘There’s something I must do. Something which cannot wait. You must call on Bathilda’s on your own Albus. Don’t forget the cakes I’ve made.’

He did not forget the cakes. They were lumps of sponge pastry with thyme and oranges. The smell of them completely enveloped him as he walked to the house. He was opened by a house elf. He could not remember whether he met the particular elf before and he did not dare addressing them with a name as he would most likely get it wrong.

‘Master Dumbledore. Miss Bagshot is expecting you. Can Zoorey take the box for you?’

Zoorey – yes, now when he heard the name, he was certain he had met the elf before.

‘They’re cakes,’ Albus explained as the elf reached their bony arm for the boy.

They nodded. ‘Zoorey shall serve them with tea.’

He was led to a drawing room then. It was a room he was well familiar with. Most of his visits to Bathilda’s ended there. Sometimes they would go to the gardens and on rare occasions, she allowed him in her books-filled study.

The room had its fair share of books, too. Nothing too old or valuable. Mostly poetry and collections of short stories her guests could busy themselves with during large gatherings.

There was always a vase of flowers on the round table in the centre of the room and there were always roses among them. When tea was to be served, the vase had to be put aside to make the room, but it was back on the table each next time.

It tended to be a quiet place when a guest was about to enter. Soon after, it filled with stories, but it was rare a conversation had already begun when Albus walked in.

That day, he could clearly distinguish two voices as he was led in.

There was a young man standing by the window, the sun turning his long blond hair golden.

After a moment, Albus realized it was not a young man – no. Not yet. His cheekbones lied. He was but a boy, still. Even younger than Albus.

He possessed unusual kind of beauty. His eyes – unmatched, the curve of his lips – inviting.

He stood there, surely the youngest person in the room, but the tallest and somehow the proudest of them all. When he looked at Albus, there was so much strength and authority in his eyes, he struggled to remain standing with his head high. And as the boy took a step forward, Albus’ knees went weak and he nearly knelt in front of him.

That – as he later found out was the boy’s greatest weapon. His undeniable charisma which would make the devil repent and angel to fall.

‘Professor Bagshot,’ Albus addressed the witch with a small bow. ‘My mother is sending her apologies for she could not come. She had sent you teacakes. I gave them to Zoorey.’

Bathilda nodded and smiled. She was dressed in midnight blue silk with silver embroidery. ‘No need to be so formal, dear. This is just my great-nephew – Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert, I told you about Albus Dumbledore. Do you remember?’

‘Of course,’ Gellert let out, smiling. His confidence did not waver as he crossed the room to where Albus was standing. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Albus.’ He offered his hand to Albus who accepted it hesitantly as if he already knew that there was no going back from this.

Albus sat in an armchair, way too close to where Gellert sat by Bathilda’s side on a sofa. He pretended to be curious about the vase on the table and his eyes followed Zoorey as they carried it away, just so he would not have to look at Gellert who gawked at him shamelessly with those strange eyes as if he could read Albus’ mind.

The thought of it worried Albus because what if he _could_ read his mind? What if those black and white eyes were a testimony of his skill? Albus never found out whether Gellert could read his mind – he certainly often felt like he had – but as the years went by, he came to the conclusion that not knowing would be better.

Because if he could, all his crimes would take on a whole new face. If he could not, it meant he never found out how beautiful Albus viewed him on that sunny day.

‘Albus has just finished his studies at Hogwarts,’ Bathilda told Gellert while the elf poured their tea.

‘Is that right?’ Gellert smiled, accepting the saucer and cup from Zoorey.

‘Yes.’ Albus nodded, half at Gellert and half at the elf who handed him his tea.

‘Are you still a student yourself, Master Grindelwald?’ Albus asked in hopes of learning more about him. He could not be much younger. A year or two at most.

‘Just Gellert, please. And you can say I have just finished my education as well.’

Bathilda laughed at this. ‘You were expelled! That is hardly the proper ending of your education.’

Even this did nothing to his confidence and smug smile.

‘It is an ending nonetheless and there are more pressing issues than examinations and good marks. Wouldn’t you say, Albus?’ He turned his head to Albus once more.

There was the ever-inquiring stare again.

It was rare to make Albus speechless and there was only a small group of people which could claim this win over his mind.

Albus fixed his collar and regretted it as soon as he did. He did not want Gellert to think he made him shy or uneasy in any way. But then again, he was sure he could not hide anything from Gellert. No matter how much he would try.

‘I believe there are many issues to be addressed indeed,’ he said finally.

Gellert smiled approvingly and relaxed into the sofa. Albus could not get rid of the feeling that he had just passed some test.

‘Well, maybe keep those problems to correct authorities for now,’ Bathilda interfered, clearly not so happy with the topic.

‘It is the authorities which create the problems!’ he shouted.

It was the first time Albus had witnessed Gellert’s mask come off. It would happen many times after that and each time, it was harder to put back on.

‘Gellert!’ Bathilda hissed, frowning. ‘Remember what you’d promised.

Gellert watched the ground for a few moments, then the corners of his lips curled up and his eyes found Albus’.

‘I am sorry. As you can see, I find it hard to contain my passions.’

It should had been a warning to young Albus to see just how well Gellert could speak. No one his age was meant to posses such level of eloquence. But then again, after everything Albus ignored that day, it was just another warning sign to omit for the smile and sweet lies of Gellert Grindelwald.


	2. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Gellert meet again and they find themselves away from the rest of the guests.

**Part 2:**

It was only two days later when Albus found himself on the porch of Bathilda’s house once more. This time he was accompanied by his mother and Ariana. Aberfoth was still god-know-where, at tis point, Albus did not attempt to keep track.

Ariana was holding their mother’s hand. At fourteen, she was a little too old for such gesture, but it stopped her from scratching her wrist. It was rare to see her outside and it was even less common to see her on her way to a social gathering.

With Aberforth gone, there was no one to care for her and Albus’ mother did not want to cancel another visit at Bathilda’s, too afraid to lose her friendship.

There were about thirty people in the house when Zoorey let them in.

Albus fixed his purple waistcoat, stretching his neck in hopes of seeing Gellert again.

He could not stop thinking about him since their meeting. He went through their conversation over and over in his head until it seemed like there was nothing more to dissect or overthink. And then he started all over again.

Sewing back the missing button of his favourite waistcoat was one of the first things he did after he came back from Bathilda’s and he did it with the sole purpose of wearing it the next time he would see Gellert.

Vanity. A trait he did not think he possessed until two days ago. This too was something he would not realize any time soon - Gellert brought out the worst in him.

It was still sunny, and some people collected in the garden. It seemed, however, that the sun was not what kept them between the lilies and fresh air. Gellert was the centre of attention. About a third of all the guests were standing in somewhat of a circle, listening to him.

‘I will find Bathilda, you can go outside,’ Albus’ mother offered as a reaction to his staring.

Albus nodded and tried his best to retain slow step as he headed into the garden.

‘…and so, as you see, it is easy to control someone and how better to do it than by silly laws? If we have to worry about that, we concentrate all our energy on their construct of society which they wish to contain, we are more likely to oversee the big issues,’ Gellert spoke in a low melodic voice. It was almost like a spell. It only took a few words for Albus to find himself unable to look away from his lips.

‘So, what do you suggest, Master Grindelwald?’ A person in their thirties asked.

‘Stop the blind acceptance of their rules. Speak up and make sure you are heard.’

‘It almost sounds like you are nudging us to fight,’ someone else pointed out.

Albus frowned. He was curious to see how he’d dig himself out of this.

‘The means are not important – the message is.’

Albus never forgot those words. They moulded, reshaped later – became simple and quick: “For the greater good.” But this was where it began.

Gellert stepped out of the circle and walked to Albus who barely made it into the garden. He was standing only a step away from the glass door, stunt by the speech and incapable of finding a different spot.

‘Albus, how very good to see you. I hoped you would be here. Walk with me,’ he suggested. It almost sounded like an order – Albus did not mind. He did not even consider refusing.

‘Is that what you do? Talk politics any time possible?’

Gellert smiled. ‘Maybe. I do not want to talk politics with you. Well, not now. Now, I am just going to enjoy your company.’ He placed his hand on Albus’ elbow, gently leading him away from the crowd which still carried the echo of Gellert’s philosophy.

Albus had questions. He wanted to hear more, but it was too hard to tell the boy _no_.

‘Why were you expelled?’ Albus enquired instead.

For some reason, Gellert’s smile widened. ‘Oh, you know – I outshined my professors and all that.’

‘I don’t think they expel students for that,’ Albus protested.

They were now so far from the crown and the house he could not hear any of the guests.

‘They do where I am from,’ Gellert said, words tinted with hurt.

‘But that is their lost – they’ll see eventually.’

They stopped by a gazebo – half overgrown with ivy – at the far end of the garden,

Gellert sat down on a stone bench, brushing off the leaves and dust next to him so Albus could sit down, too.

‘Was that your mother and sister talking to Bathilda inside?’ Gellert wanted to know.

‘Yes,’ Albus affirmed plainly as he sat down.

The bench was too small. It was large enough for both of them to sit on comfortably, but they were too close, and their knees touched when one of them shifted just over so slightly.

‘And you have a brother, too.’

It did not surprise Albus that he knew. Bathilda most likely told him. But there was a part of him which thought – dreamt – that Gellert asked. That he tried to find out something about Albus with that desperate curiosity only people who are about to fall in love ask with.

And with anyone else, Albus would be annoyed, but when it came to Gellert, he hoped for it. He hoped for it with newly discovered vanity only people who are about to fall in love feel.

‘I do,’ Albus said.

Gellert nodded and then, his hand was on Albus’ knee and Albus’ breath hitched. He looked down to where the pale bony hand was on his knee, but he made no move to shake it off. All he did was persuade himself not to place his hand over it.

‘Tell me about them.’

Perhaps it was the intoxication of Gellert’s presence or the warmth of the day or the effect of Gellert’s speech. It probably did not even matter what led Albus to do so – but against his better judgement, he told him everything.

He told him about Aberforth and about what happened to Ariana and why she was the way she was and Gellert drew circles over Albus’ knee as he got to why his father wasn’t living with them and that small gesture was so encouraging Albus would lay down all his secrets in front of Gellert.

When he finished, Gellert’s hand let go of his knee and Albus nearly reached for it to keep it there – but then it settled on Albus’ cheek and suddenly, Albus knew he was wrong. This was better. Now, he was touching his skin and there could never be anything better than this.

‘And what about you?’

Albus only managed to whisper back: ‘What about me?’

‘You told me about your family, but nothing about yourself.’

‘There’s nothing interesting about me.’

Gellert shook his head. ‘Neither one of us believes that.’

Albus looked away to hide his puzzlement.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ he admitted.

Gellert tilted Albus’ chin, so he had no other choice but to look at him.

‘Don’t tell me then, I’ll find out on my own.’

As if it somehow excused what he was to do, Gellert kissed him.

Once more, Albus was wrong. There was something better.

It was a feather-like kiss, almost just a brushing of their lips, but it filled void Albus was not aware of until that moment.

Later, Albus hated Gellert for it, because it should not had been fair to break someone for years to come with a tiny imprint of their affection.


	3. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is 1927, they meet again

**Part 3:**

**Paris 1927**

People say, there is no point dwelling on the past. Albus said it, too.

It did not stop him from regret. He regretted everything connected to Gellert. The first time he laid his eyes on him, he was bound to break. He was sure of it. It was written in their destiny that they would destroy one another. After all, the line between love and hatred truly was fine.

Now, in the new century and nearly three decades later, Albus was no closer to letting go of the man he once called his lover.

‘I am surprised you came,’ Gellert said when Albus finally ascended the stairs and entered a small attic room which probably used to be a servant lodging once upon a time.

“I am surprised you came” was so different to: “I hoped you would be here” Gellert told him at the garden party when everything was still new and innocent.

‘Neither have I,’ Albus admitted, hands in the pockets of his grey coat. Gellert stood by a small window, watching the streets of Paris.

He turned slowly – he did not lose his charm nor his confidence. He moved with the same divine grace which used to steal Albus’ sleep.

‘And yet you are here.’

‘How do you know I am not here to arrest you?’

Gellert laughed – his laughter was deeper now. ‘Because I know you. No one knows you the way I do. Or do they?’

Automatically, Albus shook his head and looked down at the dust covered floor. He hated how quickly Gellert managed to bring out the eighteen-year-old inside him who could not refuse anything to him.

Gellert nodded in the way he always had when he forced Albus to admit what he already knew. Power. It was always about power. Albus was just too stupid to see it back in 1899, those two months of madness.

He was not sure why he came. At first, he wanted to ignore the note. He was ready and well decided on ignoring it when suddenly, he was reaching for his coat, wand in hand. The next thing he knew was the creaking of the stairs which got narrower and narrower with each floor. There was no running away then. He could only walk up; he could only stand in front of Gellert and try not to fall apart.

Gellert walked to Albus who made no move at all. He did not step back, reached for his wand, or even bothered to pull his hands out of his pockets.

He placed his hand on Albus’ cheek. It was cold, but Albus did not shied away.

‘You’ve aged well,’ Gellert stated with a faint hint of gentleness.

‘You’ve…aged,’ Albus retorted, smirk settling on his lips.

Gellert laughed. ‘Very well.’

He tilted his head to the side, studying Albus. ‘How do you know I am not here to kill you?’

‘Because I know you, too.’

Gellert leaned in, lips close to Albus’.

‘Don’t,’ Albus warned.

‘Because you don’t want me to?’

‘Yes.’

Gellert leaned in even closer, lips over Albus’ neck, his warm breath caressing his skin.

‘Try again.’

‘I do not want you like that anymore,’ Albus said firmly. The strength of his voice came from endless practice so, when this moment came – and he knew it would – he would be ready.

Gellert hummed something nonsensical and stepped back. ‘No, no. Of course, you don’t. You are way too good for that now.’

‘That is not what I meant, and you know it,’ Albus said through gritted teeth.

Gellert grimaced at this. ‘No, I do not.’

He turned his back to Albus, walking back to the window, the hem of his coat dancing a step behind him.

‘Why did you want me to come?’ Albus asked. Yes, this was right.

If he stuck to this, he’d leave soon and nothing bad would happen. No regrets to be added to the list.

‘Is it not clear?’ Gellert turned back, quickly, with his arms in the air and the fabric of his coat wrapped around him shortly before it settled again.

Albus did not reply, he knew Gellert would continue talking anyway.

‘For your company – or have you forgot how much I enjoy it?’

‘If that is all, I am leaving. I am risking way too much being here.’ 

‘Oh yes, I have heard that the ministry is onto you. But you are smarter than them, aren’t you, my dear? I am sure you found a way to slip around them.’

‘I wouldn’t be here if I have not.’

Gellert did not reply and the longer Albus waited, the more insufferable the silence was. The air became tenser and tenser until Albus snapped.

‘I shouldn’t have come here,’ he said with a small snort. He turned back, ready to leave the apartment and pretend like this never happened.

‘Did I ever tell you how well you looked in that red waistcoat?’ Gellert shouted after him.

Albus stopped mid-step. It was not so much what Gellert said what made him stay, but rather the unfamiliar desperation in his voice.

‘What?’ Albus kept his back to him.

‘The day you came to Bathilda’s.’

Albus could hear the tapping of Gellert’s heavy boots against the wooden floorboards. Inside his pockets, his fingers instinctively curled into fists.’

‘The day we met.’ Gellert put his hand on Albus’ shoulder. ‘You looked divine in it.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

 _What difference does it make now?_ He did not say.

‘Because I miss you.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ Albus growled.

‘Because I want you?’ Gellert offered instead.

And yes, this was better. This, he could believe. Missing him was too tender. Lust – lust he could understand.

‘We cannot go back to the way it was. It is impossible. My sister…my brother-‘ Albus did not finish the sentence. There was no reason to. There was just one scene he could be referring to.

Gellert pressed himself to Albus’ back.

‘And there you are – talking about your brother and your sister, but never about yourself.’ There was a hint of amusement in his voice. It made Albus sick.

‘You tortured my brother – killed Ariana.’ Albus turned around quickly and pushed Gellert away. ‘How could I forget that?’

‘Did I? Did I kill her? Or was it Aberforth? Or was it you? That is why you hate me – because you do not know, and it is easier to blame me than to face the possibility that it was you!’

‘Shut up!’ Albus did not know why he said it. He knew already it would not silence him.

‘You’re only angry because I am right.’

‘I am angry because I have ever loved you.’

Albus did not expect those words to be the thing that would shock Gellert.

So many years of mocked composure falling apart right there in front of him.

‘You loved me,’ he whispered so quietly, Albus was not sure he was meant to hear it. ‘I knew it.’

‘Well, I suppose that answers the question whether you’ve ever loved me,’ Albus muttered bitterly, once more readying himself to leave.

‘How can you out of all the people be so stupid?’ Gellert grabbed his hand, forcing him to stay. ‘Of course, I loved you.’

It did not slip Albus attention that they both used past tense, but still, hearing those words settled something inside him. One question was answered, and it did not matter it took thirty years.

‘This is a goodbye,’ Albus stated, slowly leaning towards Gellert.

‘If that’s how you want it,’ Gellert said before their lips met once more. It was not as soft or gentle as that day in the garden. It could not because they had _loved_ each other, but it could never be brought back.

Later, when Albus got up from the metal bed in the room and put his shirt back on, he said it one more time: ‘This was a goodbye. It won’t happen again.’ They both needed to understand this. This had to be their ending. They were lethal to each other and the only cure was to stay away.

‘If that’s how you want it,’ Gellert replied. Still on the bed, still naked.

And that was how Albus knew it was not the end – because it was not what he wanted.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading this fic, I hope you enjoyed it. I would love to hear your thoughts and may we meet again.


End file.
